I would always say while growing up that if I ever turned out like my mother I would kill myself.
There was that much pain inside of me that I would rather sucumb to the arms of death, than repeat the type of mothering that I had been on the receiving end of.
But life has a funny way of teaching you lessons you don’t want to learn.
Because I find myself thanking my mother for some of the lessons I learnt. And though I want to say I hate her, it is more intense feelings of anger, dispair, disappointment and yes, sadness…
I thank her for the stubborness within me. The kind that has made me persevere under adverse circumstances. The tragic death of my baby brother for one. The drive to survive through the education of myself mentally and emotionally. The unfortunate breakdown of my marriage to a ‘good man’ and ultimately becoming a strong mother creating a consciousness of power and choice in myself and my children.
Self-Esteem is a tricky one though, and I still have alot of work to do there. However writing about my experience and making it public is helping me to deal with my shame of being unloved as a child.
It is sad I cannot reach my mother through her own pain and denial, but my children need me to stay strong and ‘alive’ as I realise I am a main source of their strength.
It would devastate them if I gave up…